


Broken mirror

by Eulalia_writer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Angst, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Please Don't Hate Me, Scout's honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eulalia_writer/pseuds/Eulalia_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets furious because of something Sherlock has just said about himself, and will try to get him to think about what he truly wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken mirror

**Author's Note:**

> One of the new stories I have written in English: feel free to let me know if you find any kind of mistake.

The slap reached his cheek, hurtful and unexpected, forcing him to raise his eyes and despite the tears to focus on the figure that stood in front of him with a trembling hand still in midair.

John was angry. No, that was worse, much worse: Sherlock knew how the expression of his roommate looked like when he found dangerous experiments around, or when discussing with him because he would refuse to eat or when someone got hurt by his words and he had to force him to apologize.

No, that look was far worse.

The silence in their apartment was broken only by the occasional bustle of the machines and the consulting detective could hear the sound of John's heavy and fast breaths; Sherlock raised a hand where he felt his face begin to burn and found the hot skin under his fingertips.

He looked down, unable to hold John's gaze for a second longer: what was wrong?

“Sherlock.”.

The tone in which said his name gave him the creeps: it was not as anger as he would have expected, and it frightened him.

He raised his eyes again and they were filled with tears; surprisingly, he realized, John had changed expression, and now even a person like him, lacking any knowledge concerning the human emotions, realized in a heartbeat that on the man's face he could only find pure disappointment. Even John's blue eyes were bright - he dropped dead weight on the couch next to Sherlock that instead of behaving as usual and increase the distance between them, surprised his roommate hiding his head against his shoulder and letting go a quiet weeping which the other one followed without worrying about feeling shame for the situation where two adult men were.

“Do not say it again. Never again, Sherlock. I don't even want you to think of such a bullshit.” John whispered in his ear.

“You said one of the words on the list – replied the dark-haired guy – You have to put a pound in your _“Forbidden words jar”_.”.

“Then you have to put a fifty in your _“Rude comments jar”_ , you fool, because what you just said was definitely horrible.”.

“But it was about me. And now you have to put two pounds in the jar.”.

“And I can go on the whole night night if it makes you understand the seriousness of what you said. Even if it was about you. It makes it even more horrible in fact.”.

“John, it's the truth. You refuse see, but I truly am a broken mirror, and staying with me will bring you nothing but pain and suffering.” murmured Sherlock lifting his head to look at the blond man's blue eyes still red from crying.

“Do you really want me to leave?” he finally found the voice to ask him.

The detective opened his mouth, but did not let out a sound: it froze to look at the man in front of him who was still holding him in his arms, and for a second, just a second, he thought about what would actually have happened if he had simply nodded, if he would have had to stay still staring at John H. Watson's shadow walking out of the front door with his suitcases.

He bowed his head with his eyes closed, mumbling something that John could not hear: he raised his hand with which he had slapped him and brought two fingers under the chin of Sherlock, forcing him to focus.

“What did you say?”.

“I do not want you to leave.”.

“Very well - the blond man smiled, slightly relieved - because I'm not going to.”.

Inevitably the lips of dark curved upwards, reflecting his friend's smile.

“I'm sorry, John. Do not mean to make you feel bad, even if I have not understood why.” he admitted, looking away.

“I know you think of giving me the opportunity to go away as a favor, but you must understand that I do not need your permission to remain. Technically yes, but emotionally not. I am old enough to understand what I want and what I do not. _And I want you_. I mean ... _I want to stay with you_ ...”.

The dark-haired guy smiled imperceptibly, heartened by what his roommate had just confessed, and felt his cheeks blush - it was a different heat from the slap, it was a _pleasant warmth_.

He turned back to face Dr. Watson whose cheeks had now assumed a vibrant shade of red, and they both laughed like children.

Once they managed to compose himself, John squeezed one last time Sherlock in his arms.

“Sorry about the slap. I was really furious.”.

“Don't worry, it's not -”.

The blond man's lips reached his cheekbone that was still burning slightly, and pressed there for a second: the contrast between the heat of his skin and the coolness of John's the lips brought him instant relief.

“Now it is much better, thank you. But perhaps there is another point that hurts ...” he was not sure John would have played along, but at least he had to try.

The blond man smiled: “I bet I can guess where it hurts …” he said challenging his friend and approaching his face to Sherlock's until he felt the other one's breath on his skin.

He saw him swallowing and he used his tongue to moisten his own lower lip, before closing his eyes and get close to him enough to be able to give Sherlock a chaste kiss.

“I do not want you to leave.” repeated the dark-haired guy without lifting the eyelids.

“I'm not leaving.” answered the doctor that held him back in his arms - he was sure Sherlock could clearly hear his heart pounding in the chest, but in fact he could feel the pulse on his roommate's neck with his lips, so actually he didn't even felt ashamed about it .

“Promise me, John.”.

“I promise you, Sherlock.”.

“Scout's honor?”.

The blond man smiled against the white skin of Sherlock's neck – how could have he possibly find out about his years in the Cubs?

“Yes, Sherlock, Scout's honor.”.

 


End file.
